Curshed
by chinadollontour
Summary: Bit of a random one shot. Involving drunk officers and an iceberg! Title is not a mis-spelling!


_**A/N – this was written in a moment of boredom and, if I'm honest, madness. No offence is intended towards any of the historical characters in this one-shot, and especially not the officers who I really admire. I just have an awful knack to find humour in anything (literally...I annoyed some members of my family at a recent funeral!) and I couldn't resist! This whole thing was inspired by the deleted scene where Officer Lowe tells Mr Ismay to shut up – it really amused me, haha! It's also partly inspired by the awesome drunk officer fics by Leader of the Penguins! Anyway, the ending is just a bit sucky and I might fix it up in the future but for now I hope someone, somewhere, gets some enjoyment out of this little piece! **_

The officers of the RMS Titanic were having a drinking game in their mess on the night of the 14th April 1912 - all excluding Will Murdoch, all down to the fact that he hadn't made the tea when it was his turn. Standing on the bridge, Will huddled further inside his greatcoat listening to the drunken cheers. Every time he heard them he became more resolute about never making them tea again. Still, at least he had the satisfaction of knowing where the scotch was kept. Only he and Davy (who had been bumped out, with compliments of Henry Wilde) knew about the scotch (and the lookout binoculars). He sniggered to himself. That would show them.

Lost deep in this thought, he didn't notice an iceberg emerge out of the darkness. It wasn't until the warning bell rang three times that he noticed it - muttering curses under his breath, he ran to the wheelhouse.

Mr Moody was already there, standing in his way, cup of tea in hand - the bastards! They complained to the captain about Will not pulling his weight with the tea rota when they had this junior officer constantly swanning between the teapot and the mess. Ah well, that could wait - he would have to do something about the iceberg first.

"Hard a starboard!"

He ran around like a headless chicken for a minute, as the ship slowly, slowly began to turn. It had made it. Oh sugar - it hadn't. Will felt the ship shudder, just like the way he had that time he had accidentally seen Lights naked. Never again. Will shuddered again at the memory.

Ice fell on deck and Will instantly knew his job was on the line. He could attempt a cover up, but the other officers were obviously too drunk to even pass as being qualified to be on watch at that moment. What to do, what to do? Inspiration hit him, just as the captain hurried onto the bridge.

"What was that, Mr Murdoch?"

"An iceberg, sir. We hit."

"I know we hit, you fool! Why do you think I'm out here in the freezing cold half dressed?! Close the watertight doors!"

"The doors are closed, sir."

Actually, Will had no idea whatsoever whether the doors were closed or not. He hoped they were but he couldn't be sure. He only knew that he hadn't closed them. Ah well, it hardly scratched the berg, right?

They gazed down onto the deck below them, looking at the ice. Smith was not happy, Murdoch didn't care - and he cared even less when the other officers drunkenly tottered onto the boatdeck. Lights seemed completely unable to stand alone, so Moody carefully balanced him against the wall. Boxhall had his arm around Lowe and kept loudly whispering nonsense into his ear. Pitman just fell and lay there. Moody was the only one who seemed remotely sober, with the obvious exception of Will.

Smith walked off to get dressed. By the time he was back out, Mr Andrews, Mr Ismay and a random selection of other people were huddling in the bridge. All trooped out to the chartroom, where Andrews started spreading more pessimism and doom and gloom. Ismay didn't like it one bit, and told him so. Will just hoped the watertight doors were shut.

"Will!"

Moody nudged him sharply.

"Huh?"

"I said, how many aboard, Mr Murdoch?" Smith repeated, sounding irritated.

"Two thousand two hundred souls aboard, sir."

He heard Lights snigger behind him, but chose to ignore it. Smith said something sarcastic to Ismay as Will felt a horrible presence behind him. Oh sugar - Wilde. Will's torture in this way persisted until Smith, Ismay and Andrews left, arguing amongst themselves. Then Wilde attacked.

"You useless bastard! How could you steer a ship into a blimmin' iceberg?! How did you not see it?! It was right there!"

Will looked ashamed and mumbled something about Moody being in his way. Moody looked completely blank and drank some tea. Lights, leaning on the wheel, started laughing hysterically.

"You're shite at sailing, Will!"

Will glared at him. It was all his fault anyway. Him and his stupid drinking game which he was obviously losing (unless the rumours about him not being able to hold his drink were true) had distracted him from his job. Sailing? What the hell was he on about anyway? The idiot.

Will just watched in stunned amusement (an interesting frame of mind) as Wilde went on and on about doing your job and looking where you're going, finishing it off with a little piece on common sense, which hardly applied to Will at that moment in time. He kept his mouth shut though, just in case.

Anyway, the officers were then ordered onto the boat deck to start doing things with the lifeboats. Boxhall loudly whispered something about what kind of things, and Lowe started laughing as hysterically as Lights. Wilde looked at the officers with an expression which was a cross between dismay and complete horror. He mumbled something to himself about Jesus Christ, then split the officers into two groups and yelled something to the other seamen who were floating around aimlessly.

The officers were not happy with the sides he had chosen, and demanded that they pick their own. Wilde agreed with a sigh, at which point all (except Will) crossed over to stand behind Lights who seemed barely conscious at that time. Wilde roared at them to behave like grown men, then told Boxhall and Moody to stay with Will. Moody huddled back behind Lights as Lowe took his place.

A while later, Wilde was still strutting around on deck with his whistle. Smith had been telling Bride and Phillips to send the distress call, but they were playing a game of 'I Spy' with the radio people at Cape Race. When Smith came back onto the boat deck, Lights slurred something in his ear about the boats. He looked at him like he'd gone mad. Lights repeated his request, a bit slower this time - "Should I put people in the boats?"

Smith nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, women and children first."

Now it was Lights' turn to look at him like he was a madman. He shuffled away sideways, looking oddly like a crab, in the direction of Moody.

"Shmithy-o just shaid the women and children are curshed, Mr Moody."

Moody gave Lights a strange look. Lights gestured wildly.

"Doesh that mean they're curshed to stay on board, Mr Moody?"

"I...guess so.," Moody was completely confused, and just drank another mouthful of tea. Lights staggered away. He seemed to have sobered up a bit, most likely because of the biting cold air outside. Either way, at least the only obvious effects left were his staggering and slur. It was an improvement on not being able to stand without assistance.

Anyhow, he gestured to the passengers to come closer.

"We shall be requiring everyone but women and children!" He gestured wildly. The passengers mumbled among themselves, then a man spoke.

"I say, officer, procedure is women and children first, is it not?"

"Captain shays they are curshed, my good man!" Lights almost fell over backwards, but a passing seaman pushed him back up straight.

The crowd started muttering, but Lights was hearing none of it. He didn't let any women pass onto the lifeboats, and instead started to fill them with the gentleman passengers.

Meanwhile, Officer Lowe was having some problems of his own - he was soon to become living proof that one should always familiarise themselves with their employer. He had a headache from the alcohol, and was most put out when the seamen he was working with seemed unable to work the davits. Things didn't improve when Mr Ismay started flailing his arms like a madman.

"Lower away! Lower away!"

Lowe snapped and pulled him to the side. "Do you want me to drown the lot of them?"

Mr Ismay stared at him blankly. The alcohol and the Welsh accent obviously weren't the best mix ever, so Lowe resorted to a rather vulgar gesture. Then it was Mr Ismay's turn to be put out.

"I say! Don't you know who I am?"

"I don't give who you are!" Lowe shoved him out of the way. and stumbled away to argue with the passengers.

Mr Ismay stopped him. "You're fired!"

In another part of the ship, Will was lowering his first lifeboat. He had managed to usher as many people as possible into it, and was now attempting to lower it with Wilde breathing down his neck - literally. He looked down in amusement at the people all looking around in bewilderment, making the near-fatal mistake of not keeping his eye on the davits. The boat nearly overturned, causing the passengers to squeal loudly.

"Lower at the same time you bloody fools!" He yelled, waving his arms. He heard someone snigger something about a short, fat Scotsman and turned to see Lights.

"'Scuse me, _Charles_, but your work?"

"I remembered I'm not on duty tonight so I'm watching you inshtead!" He gurgled excitedly.

Quite a bit later, things obviously weren't getting any better. Lights had been coaxed, with a lot of trouble, back to the lifeboats, but some of the passengers were upset at his resolution to leave the women and children behind. It got to the point where he had to pull his gun on them.

"I shay, shtand back or I'll shoot you all like my father shot his dying horse!"

Everyone in the vicinity ducked as he waved the gun around extravagantly. After a moment, he turned his back on them and almost fell again. He started to put some bullets into his gun, sniggering all the while.

"I was only bluffing!" He said in a loud whisper to Lowe, who also sniggered.

At this point, Lights told Moody to get into the nearby lifeboat. Moody was still sipping his tea, and shook his head.

"You go, Harry."

"No, it's your turn."

"Really, I insist."

"I couldn't do that."

This went on until Moody shoved Lowe into the boat. Lowe scrambled to his feet and shook his fist up at Moody, who simply sipped his tea in response.


End file.
